Caught on Camera. Tawny Weber
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hidden. Even if these stupid pictures were to blame for her new two-tube-a-week concealer habit to hide the dark circles brought on from sleep deprivation.
“Give,” Belle demanded.
With a grimace Sierra yanked open her drawer and tossed the eight-by-ten across the desk. She watched the glossy paper slide toward her friend, the image even more bizarre upside down.
“Oh my…” Belle’s lips moved as she silently counted. “Twelve at once? How do they keep from getting squished, do you think?”
“Good lower body strength,” Sierra deadpanned.
Not wanting to watch Belle analyze the creepy picture, Sierra flicked her mouse to take her laptop out of hibernation. Pretending the words weren’t blurred and shaky, she tried to focus on her Outlook schedule. They had three events scheduled this week. Two birthday celebrations and a store opening on Rodeo Drive. A signing meeting with a publisher determined to launch with a bang and a pile of billing to get out. Her favorite outlet store would get a delivery of basics on Wednesday, too. With this many events, she needed to keep up appearances, and for her that meant scouring sales. Busy, busy.
She blinked and let the jobs run through her head, the details calming her like no platitudes or assurances could. This she could control. And control was primary for Sierra. Ambitious, outspoken and self-confident, she knew she was damned good at what she did. Her gaze slipped over to Belle’s perusal of the latest pervy pic and she clenched her jaw.
These pictures weren’t something she could control, though. And they were fast spinning from a minor irritation into a major source of anxiety. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up having panic attacks.
“Sierra, we need to take these to the police.”
Yep, there it was. Panic. Sierra’s vision blurred to black around the edges, and she felt her heart sprint into high gear. No. She wasn’t doing this. Two deep, calming breaths while she focused on her wiggling toes, lovingly encased in the prized pair of red suede Manolos she’d scrimped and saved for eight months to buy. That helped her push away the fear.
“No. This is just some dumbass perv playing games, Belle. I’m not giving him the satisfaction of running to the cops.”
“This isn’t a game,” Belle insisted. “There’s a motive behind it. Someone is going to a lot of trouble to terrorize you. Now they’re adding threats.”
“Commentary,” Sierra contradicted, as if it didn’t matter. “Look, it’s probably just one of our competitors trying to shake us up, you know? He’d have started on you except you have that hottie fiancé you’re busy keeping company with.”
They both knew that was a slim possibility. The pictures had started to arrive before Belle hooked up with Mitch. While she’d been working on his account, as a matter of fact.
Belle didn’t call her on it, though. She just gave Sierra a long, considering look. “How do you know the perv’s a he?”
Sierra sneered and poked her finger at the picture still in Belle’s hand. “Look at the size of those boobs. Not anything under a C cup there. Totally guy-fantasy crap.”
“I agree that it’s probably the competition,” Belle said. “We’re taking over Southern California and kicking ass.” Then she tilted her head and added, “But he is getting serious. These pictures are coming daily.”
Sierra shrugged, trying to blow off the concern. She couldn’t, though. Not all of it. After all, just knowing Belle cared enough to worry about her meant she owed it to her friend to do whatever it took to assuage those fears.
“Serious or not,” Sierra said, “I’m not letting some freak push me around. What am I supposed to tell the cops, anyway? That someone is sending me dirty pictures? And now he’s added captions?”
They’d probably say it was an ex-lover trying to get some kind of revenge. And since she was a healthy twenty-seven-year-old woman, she had a nice list of ex-lovers to choose from. None were stupid or tasteless enough to pull a stunt like this, though. After all, she prided herself in being extremely selective about who she let into her life. Or her bed.
“When did you get your hair cut?” Belle asked.
Sierra blinked again. Usually Belle was much better at the tactful subject changes. Telling herself she was glad to move on and not hurt that her best friend had given up so easily, Sierra brushed her fingers over the blunt edges of her sable hair. “Last week. Tuesday, I think.”
After years of flat ironing, special shampoos and blow-dries to pamper her long hair, she’d gone for a shoulder-length style that actually worked with her waves. She’d been afraid it would be too casual, but instead it softened her sharp features and added an air of approachability she’d never had before. If it snagged more clients, it worked for her.
“Tuesday?” Belle repeated flatly.
“Right, why? What’s the big deal?”
Belle turned the paper so it faced Sierra and tapped one French-tipped nail at her image. “Apparently you blew off dinner at my place to spend this last weekend in a kinky dogpile, then.”
Sierra’s stomach lurched and breath stuck in her throat. Well, shit. She’d been concentrating so hard on not being concerned, she’d totally overlooked the fact that her orgy debut featured her new hairstyle.
She sucked in her lower lip and tried to find an explanation. But her mind was blank.
“I’m calling the cops,” Belle stated adamantly. “This guy is straight up stalking you.”
Sierra rubbed a lock of dark hair with her fingers. Before, she’d tried to write the pictures off as irritating and a little obnoxious. She really had figured it was a competitor trying to shake her up. Or, worst-case scenario, a guy with a twisted way of leading up to hitting on her. But now? She didn’t know why she was more worried now, but she was.
She should warn Belle it wouldn’t matter, though. Cops never believed her. Especially when it came to anything sexual. It was as if they took one look at her and figured she was a liar. She’d never understood why, either. She didn’t dress provocatively, she didn’t flirt randomly, and as much as she liked sex, she could hardly be termed promiscuous.
But when she’d been sexually harassed by her uncle? God, how many times had she called the police as a teenager, asking for protection against the nasty man’s advances? His creepy comments, his filthy suggestions and offers. His attempts to corner her, to touch her. She’d dodged him as often as possible, and when dodging hadn’t been possible…
Well, suffice it to say, the one time he’d actually managed to shove his hand down her top, she’d shoved him down the stairs. The cops hadn’t thought much of that, either. Believing her aunt’s assertion that she was a mouthy brat, troubled by her mother’s recent death and acting out, they’d arrested her for assault. Sierra had been troubled, heartbroken to lose her beloved mother at thirteen. But she’d also been so terrified of being abandoned, she’d acted the perfect child when she’d gone to live with her aunt and uncle, despite their accusations to the contrary.
She snatched another candy from the dwindling dish and popped it into her mouth, letting the sweetness coat her tongue, distract her. None of that mattered anymore. All that mattered was that the police weren’t going to believe her.
Especially not if they checked her record and saw the accusations her relatives had used in her arrest. Luckily, before she’d died, Sierra’s mother had arranged and paid for Sierra to attend a prestigious boarding school starting in ninth grade. The only reason her aunt and uncle had let her escape at fourteen was that it wasn’t money out of their pocket, and the possibility that Sierra might blab to the country-club set about her uncle’s advances made her even less welcome in their home. Boarding school became her haven. And once she’d met Belle there, her home.
She knew calling the authorities about the photos was useless, but somehow the idea